The Bigger Monster Ahead

Yesterday, I had a small crisis, which was comprised of a few smaller crises.  You see, along with the monster that I chose to commit to slaying by this time next year (running a marathon), I also chose to slay an even bigger monster who lives in a much further-away lair.  This monster is the famed PhD monster.  When I was a Junior undergraduate, back in 2004, I decided to pursue Philosophy as a profession.  I got all wrapped up in Epistemology, Metaphysics of Mind, Distributive Justice, and all that glamor (I'm sure you all understand, no one is immune to it!), and decided that my passion lay therein.  I started looking to graduate schools and committed to obtaining my PhD in Philosophy and becoming a professor.  I certainly took the first steps toward that goal; I got my B.A., I started grad school, attempting to get my Master's with the plan of applying to a semi-prestigious PhD program.  Somewhere in there, I had some personal snags (I really will have to tell that story sometime, it's my own personal "Fear and Loathing", but on a longer timeline, and less "cool"), and my academic situation became a small wreck.

Now, however, with my life back on track mentally, I am finding it a little frustrating that I will have to fix so much damage in order to build my life.  I need to lengthen my school tenure a little longer just to get my M.A. in good standing.  Then, there are the student loans that have lapsed into the payment period.  I am now close to getting a job, but if I get it, it will only allow for night classes (of which the Philosophy department usually only offers one per semester, if even that).  I need to take two classes next semester, and ace them both, to get back up to the GPA where I need to be.  Couple all of that with the fact that I am flat broke and in need of a car that I am not constantly fearing will die on me, and you have the background for the past few days.

So now, when I report that I had somewhat of a meltdown in front of my lady yesterday, it will come as less of a surprise.  We all have lapses in faith.  We all have times when what we are trying do seems like too much, and we are ready to give in, and just take the road that everyone else has resigned to taking.  However, not all of us are fortunate enough to have that time in the company of someone who cares enough to look at you, infuriated, and yell "if you're thinking that you're going to just give up and work the 9 to 5 now, that's just ridiculous.  I have no wish to be with someone who would just do that."  And that is the difference between how it used to be for me, and how it is.  This woman, with whom I was just hours before having a huge argument about people that I had known in the past, still managed to let me know that she wasn't going to let me turn in my dreams for a handful of bullshit.  For that, I am infinitely grateful.

With that all behind me, and with a renewed sense of direction and commitment, I got up, stretched and pushed myself.  I modified my running style a bit, based on a video I watched of how marathoners run.  I gotta say, it was a little easier to keep a constant pace that way.  I pushed past my old mark, running just over 4 miles (6.5 km), and did it in just under 36 minutes, which means that my pace was about 8:48 per mile.  Granted, that is a lot slower than what I'll need to do to run a marathon in less than 3:30, but I have moved up a bit in the distance running world.  My foot was throbbing by the time I finished, but it's not hurting so much as I type this.  As for the foot, it's nothing that new shoes can't fix.  But as for the rest of the journey ahead, I'll need to make sure I always have that someone who makes me press on when I don't think I have the juice.  She knows who she is.

The Iceman

When I started on this quest to go from lazy to long-distanceer (I probably made that word up, just to warn you), I either assumed that I was invincible or forgot to consider that I was not.  Either way, I made the mistake of not taking into account that a) I don't have running shoes, just these guys, 40 dollars worth of nylon and minimal suede with a thin, uncoushioned sole

and b) the fact that I don't pay attention to (a) makes it that much easier to sustain a foot/ankle injury.  You see, my routes have always centered around side-streets and winding "no-outlet" roads and such, but there are parts of the route in which uneven grassy land is unavoidable (unless I liked the idea of being hit by cars).  Being an inexperienced runner and having the resulting unpolished stride and lack of "all-terrain" running knowledge, if I'm just pushing it for a half mile, pounding the ground, I do it the same for any terrain.  Silly me, for this allowed my weak foot (ol' lefty to me) to pound too hard, on too uneven a ground, and somehow hurt himself.  This is an injury that I have sustained before (though I don't remember how).  It's just at the midpoint of my foot, right on the outside, and stretches back to near the heal.  I noticed it after my session on Wednesday, but thought it was just soreness.  I iced it a little that day and walked more on the inside of that foot around campus yesterday.  I thought that if I could just stretch my foot back a little while stretching before today's run, and then run more on the inside of my foot (toward the arch), I'd be okay--at least for most of the run.  From the get-go, I could feel my foot yelling at me each time it dropped.  "Don't do this, you're not far, you can turn around!" he'd plead with me "When you slam me down on the ground, you're applying almost a ton of force upon me, it doesn't matter which part of my you favor, all of me feels it!"

Well, I politely told my foot to shove it and continued down the usual 5k path.  Around the end of the second mile, I encounter a long patch of uneven, slightly uphill grassland.  By that time, I had gotten accustomed to the persevering thud of my foot against the concrete and asphalt, but the grass and hard, bumpy dirt underneath was a different story.  Around that time, I had to stop.  I limp-jog/walked until I got off the grass, then legged it for the rest of the run on the asphalt.  Needless to say, no time improvement today.  But I have the quixotic hope that if I stay iced like T.I. and bring the heat like Gordon Ramsay for the duration of the weekend, I can do 4 miles on Monday.  Actually let me put that in terms that agree more with the approach that I've come to take with myself about working toward this goal.

I will ice my foot, and heat it accordingly this weekend.  Then on Monday morning, I will run 4 miles, whether I feel up to it or not.  Whatever happens afterward is totally open, but as for what will occur after I stretch and step out the door until I return to my front door, I cannot waver on that.